Far down, beyond the fathom of the intellect, the soul acknowledged that all these varying and conflicting developments of humanity were united in one sentiment. Be the individual theory as wild as fancy could make it, still the wiser spirit would recognize the struggle of the race after a better and purer life, than had yet been realized on earth.

In the moral welfare, which you are to wage - and, indeed, in the whole conduct of your lives - you cannot choose a better example than myself, who have never permitted the dust, and sultry atmosphere, the turbulence and manifold disquietudes of the world around me, to reach that deep, calm well of purity, which may be called my soul. And whenever I pour out that soul, it is to cool earth’s fever, or cleanse its stains.

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She discerns, it may be, such a hopeless task before her. As a first step, the whole system of society is to be torn down, and built up anew.

Besides the rosh-bush, she had observed several other species of flowers, growing there in a wilderness of neglect, and obstructing one another’s development (as is often the parallel case in human society) by their uneducated entanglement and confusion.

Measured by the prisoner’s experience, however, it might be reckoned a journey of some length; for, haughty as her demeanor was, she perchance underwent an agony from every footstep of those that thronged to see her, as if her heart had been flung into the street for them all to spurn and trample upon.

An orchard has a relation to mankind, and readily connects itself with manners of the heart.

Possibly, it was an instinctive device of her spirit, to relieve itself, by the exhibition of these phantasmagoric forms, from the cruel weight and hardness of reality.

He was intellectual, but not actively so; his mind occupied itself in long and lazy musings, that tended to no purpose, or had not vigor to attain it; his thoughts were seldom so energetic as to seize hold of words.

But still his mind kept vibrating between fancy and reality…